I've Grown a Big Bushy Beard - Who Else Claims the Rights?

I’ve grown a big bushy beard

And I love it.

In an era where men would rather not impose,

I push my bristly beard next to you.

Some men are shaved.
Their skin is red and raw,

But I don't care for them.

I like the men on the bicycles

With their unshaved faces.

They ride at a steady pace, 

And when I look at them,

for just a moment

I think about colliding particles

And how close we can get

And how close can we be 

in this human life.

My beard is thick and aggressive.
It never apologizes.
In fact, my beard refuses to push in the chair or clear the plates.

My beard takes up the whole 45 years of my face.
I've earned this beard and this beard has earned its place

Here with me,
Grown thick and wiry and frenetic

In Valhalla.

It shouts "no"
Now deal with it.

This is my beard.

My face is not clean shaven and hairless

Like some young well-rounded moon.

My face is hard like a Viking's sword

And it strikes bold against the world.

Who else claims these rights?